Five Senses (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)
by mav-writes
Summary: Just moments after Greta escapes the Heelshire Estate with Malcolm, a traveler wanders by the mansion in hopes to seek refuge in the manor. Only upon entering do they realize the resident may not be who they'd expect. (Reader's gender is NOT specified and everyone is welcome to read it). (2432 word count).
1. Chapter 1: The Mansion

**Chapter One: The Mansion**

_The birds are singing now.._

_Only just a few moments ago was the night soundless.. _

_What is that noise?_

_It certainly isn't chirping.._

Quickly, I hurried off the road and hid behind a tree as the sound neared.

Over the horizon in the direction I am heading, a car roars into view.

Squinting, I concentrated in hope that I could catch a glimpse of the driver.

Inside the vehicle, a young woman displaying a crazed grin on her face with a figure knocked out in the passenger's seat.

Watching the car speed down towards town with its engine roaring along with them, my first response should have been to return to town.

But I hadn't stayed up all night to turn back now.

Once they were out of sight, I stepped foot back onto the road and marched my way up in the direction that they had left.

A while later, I come across a large estate with open gates.

Pausing in front of the entrance, I debated whether or not to seek refuge in the mansion.

I checked my cell phone for the time, _softly _sighing at the low percentage as I checked the time: 6:48 am.

Hopefully, the residents would be awake by now.

Dusting myself off and gripping the shoulders of my backpack, I regained energy in my legs and walked up to the front door.

Upon approaching, my heart begins to race and anxiety courses through me once I notice the door has been left open.

What if those people had been here?

Were they so much in a rush to leave the door wide open?

Or maybe there are intruders?

All previous confidence I mustered up to even come close to the mansion withered away as I _silently_ back away from the doorway.

I quickly scan around the outside of the place and look up at the windows to see if there may be someone inside.

Panic took over as every negative outcome scattered in my head, as I finally decided to leave.

Holding my breath, I held onto my backpack straps and turned-


	2. Chapter 2: The Man

**Chapter Two: The Man**

_What hurts so much?_

_Why is my head all fuzzy?_

_It's very comfortable here, though.._

_It's so soft and plush under my skin.._

_Wait.._

Slowly remembering my previous events, my heart pound hard in my chest once again as I force myself to open my eyes.

Morning light greeted me, lighting up a room that held classical pieces of furniture in it.

I attempted to turn my head to get a better view of my surroundings, only to feel a throbbing ache on the side of my head, causing me to mentally groan.

Leaning back in my original position, I felt a fluffy cushion underneath my head and my body dip into soft sheets as I sighed.

The realization that I was on a bed slowly entered my mind as the stillness of the room brought an odd comforting feeling while I relaxed.

Losing track of time, I snapped out of my trance upon hearing a pained moan echo throughout the place.

I winced in pain but forced myself to sit up on the bed, alerted by the sound.  
There is someone else here..

They must have brought me here..

In the mansion, I think..

How do I escape?

As quietly as I could manage, I slipped off the softness of the bed and slowly made my way towards the door that had been left slightly ajar.

Reaching out my hand, I cautiously pulled it open, praying it wouldn't creak.

Luckily, it opened soundlessly as I stepped foot into a hall, filled with furniture and antiques that matched the bedroom I was in.

A muffled frustrated groan could be heard from somewhere lower as I carefully walked around until I found a flight of stairs.

Having experienced with my fair share of horror novels and movies, the stairs are one of the last things I'd want to be near.

If the door hadn't made a sound, I hope the stairs would be just the same as I neared towards them.

I pray this place isn't as old as it seems to be.

Lifting one foot, I grabbed the railing and stepped down from the top step.

Then I took another step.

And another.

Over halfway down the stairs, another low groan was heard as I felt a loose board under my foot before quickly advancing down onto the one below that, taking two steps at a time.

I paused and held my breath, fearing that the person may have heard my movements over their voice.

A few seconds passed before I heard a loud bang and a yell of frustration coming from somewhere on the bottom floor.

Slowly edging my way down, I finally reached the bottom and turned to the direction of the noise where I had heard it just moments ago.

I quieted my breathing as I passed by multiple rooms before entering one only to retreat back and hide behind the corner as I noticed a tall dirtied man crouching over a sink.

While his back was turned to me, next to him was a porcelain doll of a young boy staring directly at me.

I noticed the jagged lines and cracks covering its _smooth _face indicating that it must have shattered at some point.

Movement next to it turned my attention back to the man as his body turned towards the doll, giving me a good look at what looked like a screwdriver lodged into his stomach.

The smallest gasp accidentally escapes my lips, causing the man's head to shoot in my direction, allowing me to take in the sight of his half-scarred face.

The universal fight-or-flight response racked my brain.  
What do I do?

My body apparently had a mind of its own as I stepped out of my hiding spot and entered the kitchen, "Are you alright?"

Stupid question.

Of course he isn't.

The man seemed to be as taken back as I was with my own actions.

He didn't respond but his facial expression held conflicting emotions: confusion, anger, anguish, and hope.

I cautiously approached him, still unsure how he would react but he remained still until a flash of realization hit him and he turned around to grab something white and fled the room.

"Wait!" I called out and chased after him.

My _heart erupted_ in my chest as my feet hit against the hardwood floors of the halls.

Watching him run into a room, I hurriedly turned the corner but what I find is not the man I am after.


	3. Chapter 3: The Doll

**Chapter Three: The Doll**

_That blood is soaked into the floor.._

_I can see the ripped windpipe in his throat.._

_Why is the mirror shattered?_

_This is the murder scene that you'd expect see in one of those horror films.._

I held my hands close to my chest as I cautiously enter the site.

Carefully approaching the body, I walked around to get a better view of their stilled face.

Though his eyes are open, they are not alive.

Was he murdered by the other man I saw?

Wait..

Where did he go?

Turning my head, I ignored the return of the throbbing pain in my head and scanned the room for any trace of the man.

Nothing..

Almost as if he had vanished or had never existed in the first place.

But I _saw _him.

He is real.

Paranoia wrapped around me as a sixth sense took over, alerting me that I was not alone.

Although I could not see him, I felt his gaze as I stood in the middle of the room.

Turning around, I made my way out of the room at a slow anxious pace, afraid I'd repeat my earlier events.

Being sure to scan everywhere I could from standing in the doorway for the man, he was gone but I felt him with me somehow.

I quickened my pace as I searched for a way out, thinking that if needed, I'd climb out the nearest window.

Soon, I stumbled upon the kitchen again and immediately took note of the doll that still sat next to the kitchen sink, staring off with its lifeless eyes.

Hesitantly, I made my way over and took a closer look at the doll.

Its jagged cracks were noticeable but the pieces looked to be carefully held together by glue.

The small clothes were tattered and a few deep red spots freckled over the thin fabric.

"Don't leave me.." a boy's voice rang out behind me, causing me to flinch as I snapped my body towards them, only to see that the childish voice belonged to that man.


	4. Chapter 4: Blood

**Chapter Four: Blood**

_What is that?_

_Coins? Metal?_

_No.._

_Blood.._

_He reeked of it.._

Whether it was from his wound or the scent of dead man in the other room that's engraved into my memory, I couldn't tell.

I stayed in my spot, unable to move being too afraid that even the slightest blink could set him off and I'd be dead before I opened my eyes.

His face was now half-covered with a broken porcelain mask that similarly resembled the doll.

Admittedly, the mask was uncomfortable to look at, even as he tilted his head like a cute child or dog in wonder.

He made no other sound or move, almost as if waiting for my reaction.

My eyes wandered over his features and observed the half of his face that is revealed.

It was scarred and flushed rusty hues of red and browns.

One of his eyes seemed duller than the other, carrying pink rims around the whites of his eyes.

He must have noticed my staring because I saw him narrow his gaze at me as I watched a darkness emerge from inside him.

Quickly, I stopped and decided to take action before things could get any worse.

"Do you need help with that?" I asked softly, gesturing to the screwdriver that was still lodged in his stomach.

Curiosity replaced the darkness as I waited for him to respond, only to receive silence as an answer.

I exhaled a breath I had no idea I had been holding in, and gathered up the courage to cautiously inch my way towards him.

The man's eyes widened as he took a step back before hesitantly putting his foot back in its previous spot, waiting for me to approach him.

Not moving my eyes away from his, I slowly made my way over and took a deep breath of the toxic scents he carried.

Nevertheless, I persisted and pushed through the metallic smell of blood and the musky scent of sweat until I stood face to face with him.

Although his figure was slightly hunched over, it was easy to tell that he was capable of towering over me if he stood at his full height.

He peered down at me, hands remained at his sides whilst his head moved to stand up right as he watched me with a curious gaze.

Not once did I break eye contact with the man as I spoke, "Let's get you cleaned up."


	5. Chapter 5: Brahms

Chapter Five: Brahms

_My mouth is dry.._

_But he's so close to me, I can practically taste his foul stench.._

_He's too close.._

I wanted to grinned victoriously when he followed me up the stairs to one of the bathrooms I had walked by earlier, but now was not an appropriate time.

After a few moments of struggling with my memory, we had reached one of the bathrooms.

"Sit." I stated firmly and he complied and sat on top of the toilet seat.

Rummaging around the drawers and cabinets, I found a small pile of rags and grabbed one before soaking it in warm water under the sink.

Turning around to face him, I knelt down and looked at the screwdriver.

He must have been stabbed through his clothes but we're going to have to take it out.

"Can you take off your shirt?" I asked before he nodded and shrugged off his cardigan.

He lifted his arms to reach the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled it over him but the screwdriver made a small hole through the fabric and moved when it got caught in the process.

The man winced and let out a small whimper in pain as he pleaded me with his eyes as he let go of his shirt.

My heart ached when I saw his pained expression but it had to be done.

"We still need to get your shirt off so we can get the screwdriver out." my brain racked at every option before settling on one, "My scissors. They're in my bag. We co-"

Another realization dawned upon me, "Where is my bag? I can grab my scissors that are in there."

The man's expression immediately darkened and a deep raspier voice could be heard from him, "_No."_

Irritated, I tried to reason with him, "Then how do you suppose we're to take that out without having you bleed to death? I could cut a hole around the screwdriver so you can take your shirt off and let me clean the blood."

Stubbornly, he glared and shook his head, repeating, "_No."_

"Why not?"

"_You could hurt me."_ his childish voice fought back.

My eyes widened and snapped up to meet his once I heard his answer because he was right.

I'd have to opportunity to hurt him or just leave if I wanted while he sits here in pain and possibly dying.

Is that what I really wanted?

To leave this man for dead?

I could run away from this alive.

He must have noticed the conflicting emotions running across my face because I saw his eyes become glossy and sad as he waited for me to respond.

Remembering all I had been through before and what plans I had for the future, I had decided my fate.

"I won't hurt you." I reassured him softly, placing the damp rag on my legs and holding his hands in his lap, "I want to help you but you need to trust me, okay?"

The man held his breath as he watched me, trying to detect any hints of lying that I may have tried to pull on him but he found none.

A spark of hope emerged in his eyes of sadness as he slowly nodded.

"Good," I gently smiled at him then overcome with curiosity, I asked him another question, "What's your name?"

His eyes beamed at the question and suddenly, he didn't seem so threatening anymore as he answered in his child-like voice, "Brahms. _Brahms Heelshire._"


End file.
